


I Built the Shadows Here

by airspaniel



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Dreams, Identity Issues, M/M, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-26
Updated: 2007-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the dream he stares into the mirror, dark brown eyes locked to eyes so black they don't reflect the light, windows to the soul revealing nothing but cold, empty space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Built the Shadows Here

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet for [](http://cerebel.livejournal.com/profile)[**cerebel**](http://cerebel.livejournal.com/)'s [Sekrit Cabal Porn Battle](http://community.livejournal.com/cerebel_fics/53503.html). Prompts - mirror, Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein_ [Original post](http://community.livejournal.com/cerebel_fics/53503.html?thread=947711).

In the dream he stares into the mirror, dark brown eyes locked to eyes so black they don't reflect the light, windows to the soul revealing nothing but cold, empty space.

The creature staring back is not a man, not even human; a merciless creature stitched together from all the parts of him he had repressed. His anger, his shame, his despair, his desperate, cloying need to be _special_... These things had coalesced, and he had created a monster. A revolting demon in an angel's form, who wears his face.

And Gabriel is afraid.

Then the monster moves, stepping towards him and he realizes it's not a mirror at all; that he's alone, naked, trapped with this _thing_ , and there's no escaping. Pale hands reach out to him, caressing his face tenderly, long fingers running back through his sharply parted hair.

"Why are you fighting so hard?" Sylar asks, and Gabriel shivers as lips that are perfect mirrors of his own brush against his temple.

"I-I don't want this," he stammers.

Sylar flicks out his tongue, teasing the sensitive spot under Gabriel's jaw and the man gasps, baring his throat. He chuckles low and wicked, "Yes, you do. You _need_ me. Isn't that right?" Sharp teeth nip at Gabriel's neck, a hot tongue following to soothe the stings. "Isn't that why I exist, to do the things you've always wanted? To be powerful? Special?"

"Not like this," Gabriel hisses, driven breathless as that maddening mouth captures his earlobe, sucking hard. "Ah, god... You... You're a murderer."

Sylar stops and pulls back, staring coldly at his alter-ego. "I do what needs to be done. For _us_." His hands trail down Gabriel's chest, the left one fire and the right ice, causing flushed skin and goosebumps at the same time. It’s a dizzying sensation, and Gabriel is aroused almost against his will, arching against a hard body exactly like his own.

Then lips are on his, crushing, devouring him and he’s helpless against it. He fights to keep his eyes open, feeling that if he closed them the world would spin and he would find there was no difference between them at all. That they are one and the same.

Gabriel needs that difference to keep him sane.

Not that sanity applies here, in this moment, as hands just like his pull him close and arms just like his hold him there, and invisible coils of energy snake up his chest, down his back. The contact sets his nerves on fire and his eyes slip shut; he can’t help it.

“That’s it,” Sylar growls in his ear, “Just let go.” A strong hand closes around his erection, hotter even than his straining flesh.

“Oh, God forgive me!” Gabriel moans, head falling forward. It’s exactly what he wants, aggressive and fast, almost mechanical, not giving him any time for guilt or second thoughts.

He prays in earnest, pleading, bucking his hips into Sylar’s hand, desperate for the release that’s just out of reach…

Sylar laughs, a sharp, cold sound. “Let go,” he repeats, “Let me take care of you.”

Gabriel couldn’t disobey if he wanted to. He screams, crying out “Sylar,” and “Jesus,” and “save me,” as he comes.

That laugh cuts into his skin, into his _brain_ , and he doesn’t want to open his eyes. He feels the slickness on his own hand and knows what he’ll see.

“You made me too strong, Gabriel,” Sylar’s voice echoes around him, taunting and wicked, “You can’t stop me now.”

And he’s right.

God help us all.

Gabriel opens his eyes and he is alone; one body, naked and shivering. He falls to his knees weeping, too weak to even beg forgiveness.

The next morning, Sylar wakes up smiling.  



End file.
